


Falling Up

by Kat_Rowe



Series: Who Needs Heaven (when we have each other)? [12]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bonding, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Flying, Kissing, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Getaway, Wingfic, it's more about the flying, sorta wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Rowe/pseuds/Kat_Rowe
Summary: Getting away from London for a few days was definitely a good idea, a chance to let their hair down and stretch their wings a little.And, since there's not anyone around for miles, it probably wouldn't hurt to put their wings to their proper use for a little while.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Who Needs Heaven (when we have each other)? [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657927
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52





	Falling Up

**Author's Note:**

> I did do a butt-ton of research on flying for this fic but, if we're being realistic, angels and demons pretty much have diplomatic immunity from the Laws of Physics. At times, they are definitely pulling off some moves no bird or fighter plane could manage.
> 
> That said, for the most part, Aziraphale's flying style is loosely based on large predators like hawks and owls. And anyone who's ever seen a raven in flight will probably see their influences on Crowley's style. (Did you know ravens can fly upside-down? You do now.)
> 
> Many thanks to the lovely [morgaine2005](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgaine2005) for the beta work. As always, any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
>  **Content Warning** of a sort: There is a brief moment where Aziraphale is afraid that Crowley has been attacked or injured, but he hasn't been and we get right back to the fluff.

_There is freedom waiting for you,_  
 _On the breezes of the sky,_  
 _And you ask “What if I fall?”_  
 _Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?_  
\-- Erin Hanson **  
**

  
  
“You… own an island now?” Aziraphale asked, biting his lip and resisting the urge to laugh at his ridiculous partner. “When I suggested somewhere quiet, I was thinking of a small resort, dear, not a private island.”

“Well, I mean, teeeeechnically,” Crowley began, using that voice of his that was somewhere between ‘please don’t be mad’ and ‘you’re going to _love_ these shenanigans’ while staring after the departing plane.

It was a small one, just big enough for the pilot and a few passengers, and Aziraphale was glad to see it go. Not that it had been uncomfortable, but it had been waiting at the airport when their plane from London arrived, resulting in almost no breather at all before they’d crammed themselves into yet another stuffy steel box for far too many hours. It was good to have his feet on solid land again, or at least on a solid wooden dock above the warm and open ocean. He couldn’t see much of the island, just a cliff face with stairs set into the side, but the air reminded him of Eden, heavy with the smell of vitality and _life_.

“Technically _what_ , Crowley?” he asked, setting down his bags and putting his hands on his hips as he faced his friend. 

“Well, technically… you own it, not me.”

“Me?” Aziraphale repeated, staring up at him, then groaning. “Oh, Crowley, I don’t know how to declare an _island_ on my taxes! Why did you…?”

“Let’s just say that it would be a bad idea for just about any of my aliases to be on the deed to any kind of large land-mass for the next couple decades.”

The angel blinked at that, clearing his throat. “There’s a story here, and I am curious, but also not sure I want to know what it actually is.” 

“We can… you know, another time,” Crowley assured him, expression endearingly sheepish. Definitely a story Aziraphale wasn’t ready to hear yet. “And don’t worry. I’ll have one of my people deal with the tax issues. I just thought… you know, you mentioned that maybe if this goes well we could do it more often. So, I figured, this way we’ll have a… a place for ourselves if we want.”

“And it is a lovely place,” Aziraphale admitted, biting his lip and drinking in the air. “I can’t see the plants, but it smells like we have our own personal jungle waiting for us.” 

“I figure, if we decide to come again, we leave a phone here before we go, then we can always come back the easy way.”

“Oh, yes, your telephone shortcut,” Aziraphale chuckled. “You’ll have to teach it to me, but it does sound like a far superior way to travel.” 

“It is, long as you don’t get motion-sick. Let’s go up,” Crowley suggested, gesturing to the wooden stairs set into the cliff face. “It’s a bit of a walk, but worth it when you reach the top. And we can just miracle our bags up when we get there.”

“All right,” he agreed, reaching for Crowley’s hand as they started towards the stairs together. “I assume there’s a dwelling of some sort up there? I haven’t properly camped in centuries…”

“I wouldn’t force you to camp. There’s a little bungalow: kitchen, bedrooms, lounge, bath. Solar panels, even, so it has electricity.” 

Aziraphale smiled at that, since even tropical climates could be a bit chilly at night, at least by Crowley’s standards, and he didn’t want to risk building a fire while they were here. Central heating would be good to have. “Sounds lovely. A proper little holiday home. But _why_ , Crowley? You said you’ve had your eyes on this place for some time now? What’s so special about it?” 

“Well, the geography makes it good for all kinds of legally questionable activities, so I thought it would be a nice little present to you,” he explained as they ascended the steps.

The angel frowned at that, wondering what he was missing. “Oh?” 

“Yeah.” Crowley nodded. “You know, now it’s one less place in the world where evil-doers can operate unnoticed. Evil has been utterly thwarted. Seemed perfect for an angel. Besides, it’s beautiful here. You’ll love it.”

“I already do,” he admitted as they ascended the steps. “It’ll be nice, having a little place that’s just ours. And, as you say, evil has been thwarted. Our ownership of the island ensures that continues, and our regular visits here will prevent the money you spent from being wasted.” 

“Exactly. Most virtuous holiday-spot on the planet, this,” Crowley assured him, throwing his arms wide and twirling around in place. “Negative crime rate, no one for me to Tempt, big old carbon sink with all the trees, cabin powered entirely by green energy…”

“Yes, yes, you can stop trying to convince me,” Aziraphale chuckled, turning and smiling warmly up at him. It was wonderful to see him so happy and relaxed already. “I’m quite convinced already, I assure you.”

“Good. If you’re already convinced, I can turn my creative powers to, say… getting you not to wear that bowtie all weekend,” he teased, making a grab for it.

If they hadn’t been on a rather steep and narrow wooden staircase set into a cliffside, Aziraphale might have jumped out of the way. Of course, the fact that he _couldn’t_ evade his friend’s hands didn’t mean he _wanted_ to in any way. It wasn’t the first time Crowley had removed his bowtie, although his fingers seemed a little less deft than usual today. Maybe the poor dear was still feeling tired. Still, this felt like the perfect symbolic start to their holiday, a sort of metaphorical letting down of the hair, a spreading of the wings. As Crowley finished dragging off his bowtie, Aziraphale reached up and undid his shirt’s top button as well, grinning.

“That’s new,” Crowley noted, grinning. “You usually don’t make it this easy for me.”

“Yes, well… we are on holiday, dear. I believe that’s _generally_ viewed as ample justification to let one’s hair down a bit, so to speak.”

“You’ve decided to let your hair down?” Crowley repeated, smirking at him. “Who are you, you gorgeous man, and what have you done with my angel?”

“Oh, I’m still me. Just learning from your bad example,” he teased as they reached the top of the staircase. And, oh, that _view_! “Crowley…”

They were standing on a ridge that curved around this edge of the island and then sloped gradually down towards the sea on the other. There was a small and very modern cabin on a nearby outcropping, but almost everything else about the island reminded him of nothing so much as Eden: untouched greenery broken only by a few rivers and waterfalls from edge to edge. It was not all woodland, granted, but neither had Eden been, and the little glades and patches of grassland dotting the island promised lovely walks and picnics. So much pleasure could be enjoyed here. 

Next to him, Crowley let out a low whistle. “The estate agent wasn’t kidding about this place. Gorgeous. I may take some cuttings before we go.”

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley’s enthusiasm, then lost his smile as the underlying meaning of the statement sunk in. “You… outright bought an island, sight unseen?” 

“Well, I had pictures, and I sent a solicitor to check it out before I closed,” he answered, with a negligent shrug. As if he did this sort of thing all the time, or had before _something_ had occurred that made it a bad idea to put any of his various aliases on a land deed. Ridiculous creature.

Shooting him a tolerant smile, Aziraphale took a moment to just enjoy the sight of Crowley looking entirely relaxed and quite pleased with himself. Getting away from London for a bit had definitely been the right decision. A few days in a place like this was just what the doctor ordered. It would be good for both of them. It had been a long time since either had been in a position to just go off somewhere and take a few days for themselves.

Reaching for Crowley’s hand and tangling their fingers together, Aziraphale told him, “I’m so glad you agreed to a holiday and found us this lovely place. It’s ideal, my darling.” 

“Anything for you, angel,” he chuckled, squeezing his hand. “Let’s go inside and have a look around?”

“All right. We can have a bit of dinner, then go exploring?”

“In the dark?” Crowley laughed, transferring their luggage from the dock to the cabin’s porch with a snap of his fingers.

“Why not? We can both _see_ in the dark, after all. And I assume an island this small doesn’t have any very large predators.” 

“Nope. Just the tigers I had set loose for disposing of bodies,” he assured him, heading for the cabin. “Come on, angel.” 

Shaking his head at Crowley’s ridiculous sense of humor, Aziraphale followed, scooping up several bags and following Crowley inside. The cabin was hardly fancy by their usual standards, but it was perfectly cozy and comfortable -- and far less cluttered and shabby-looking than the little flat above the bookshop, which Crowley had always taken with perfectly good grace. It would be a lovely place to stay, Aziraphale thought, and Crowley was glancing around with a smile, nodding to himself. The cabin was just this side of rustic, and the kitchenette was small enough that no particularly ambitious cooking projects would be practical, but they weren't here for fancy meals or any other familiar favorites. This weekend was to be as little like normal as possible; that was the whole point. 

“I’ve stayed in worse,” Crowley noted, flinging himself across a sofa that looked too sleek and modern to be remotely comfortable. “Of course, we both know what daub and wattle walls were made of back in the day, so that’s not necessarily saying much.” 

“Don’t be contrary, my love. I can tell you like it,” Aziraphale chuckled, kneeling next to the sofa and lifting a hand to stroke Crowley’s hair. 

“Awrk, stop that!” he protested, flailing a little. “Are you _trying_ to put me to sleep?”

“I’ll settle for just having you relaxed,” the angel assured him, ignoring the hands trying to bat his away and continuing to stroke Crowley’s hair. 

“Well, if you get me any more ‘relaxed,’ angel, I’m not going to be able to join you on that walk you mentioned,” he mumbled, eyelids fluttering. 

“I won’t object to a quiet night in, if you’d rather,” Aziraphale assured him. "I can read while you rest. It might not hurt for you to get some sleep. You haven’t rested easily lately.” Clearing his throat, he added, “And before you tell me that you don’t _need_ to sleep, that doesn’t change a thing. You haven’t been sleeping nearly as much as you generally do, and I think it’s good for you to be able to… to reset like that.” 

“I didn’t buy us a private island so I could come here and _sleep_ all weekend. Angel, I’m here to spend time with you.”

“And we will spend time together, of course,” Aziraphale assured him, leaning down and kissing Crowley’s temple. “But it’s been a long week, and a long flight, so let’s just rest tonight and then we’ll be fresh and have the whole weekend ahead of us.” 

Crowley grimaced at him, but it quickly dissolved into a lazy smile. “All right. Going to join me in bed?” 

“Of course. Do you want to eat first?” 

“Nah. I ate this morning. You help yourself, though, angel. Kitchen’s fully stocked. I’ll get changed and be waiting for you.”

“I did have a bite on the plane,” Aziraphale pointed out, climbing to his feet. “And that’s bound to put anyone off the idea of food for a good while,” he joked, offering his hands to Crowley. “Straight to bed, then?”

Crowley grinned, taking his hands and hauling himself to his feet with a theatrical groan. “To bed, and tomorrow we’ll explore our little piece of paradise.” 

Aziraphale smiled, followed him into the bedroom, a small room with more windows than walls. An enormous bed dominated, and from it, one would be able to see the sun setting over the ocean or turn just a bit and see the slowly darkening jungle instead. It would be a charming view for him to enjoy once Crowley fell asleep. Which probably wouldn’t be long. Crowley had already snapped himself into a pair of black silk pyjamas and was burrowing under the covers in a flailing tangle of arms and legs that didn’t actually seem to be helping him at all. It was the behavior of a man, or a man-shaped-being who was also sometimes a snake, who intended to get thoroughly comfortable and enjoy his night’s sleep to the full. Aziraphale could only smile as he watched, his smile widening as a quizzical sound emerged from somewhere deep under the blankets. 

“You coming, angel?” Crowley asked, head not appearing from beneath the covers. 

Clearly someone was in a burrowing mood. 

Chuckling, Aziraphale began undressing, assuring him, “I’ll be along as soon as I change. Comfortable, dear?” 

“Mmm, ssss’warm here,” he moaned. “Thought I’d never get warm again after London this winter…” 

“Well, we’ll have plenty of scope for that over the weekend, won’t we?” he chuckled, unpacking a pair of light pyjamas and quickly pulling them on. 

Even in the early evening, the island was still quite warm, though not uncomfortably so. Whether it would be anything other than scorching in the light of day remained to be seen, although he was hopeful that the shade from the trees and breeze off the ocean would help. Crowley, of course, would enjoy it no matter how warm it got, and as this weekend was mostly for his sake, Aziraphale would tolerate the heat, no matter how overpowering it became. He might even go for a swim in the ocean at some point. Not that he’d thought to pack anything to swim _in_ , but that was probably just as well. Crowley would laugh less at Aziraphale swimming naked than he would at the angel wearing a bathing suit he’d acquired some time in the late 1800s. It was not as if there was anyone nearby to _see_ him, except perhaps the Earth Observation departments of Heaven and Hell, and it was not as if they weren’t already fully aware that his relationship with Crowley had become the sort where there was nothing unusual in them going on holiday together or going naked in one another’s presence. Still, it might be best to ward the cabin at least from remote viewing, and while he was at it, he should probably put up some alarm wards as well. 

A whine issued from beneath the pile of blankets, followed by a plaintive, “M’angel?”

Aziraphale chuckled at that, walking over to the bed and giving the lump under the blankets a gentle pat on what was either the shoulder or the hip. “I won’t be long. I just want to put up some basic wards before we rest. I won’t be five minutes.”

“Wards?” he asked, voice muffled by the covers but bearing an undeniable hint of anxiety.

He sighed, since that was the last thing he’d wanted for Crowley this weekend, and made his voice deliberately bright. “Silly precaution, I know, but one _does_ prefer being perfectly safe, even to the point of over-preparedness, and I wouldn’t want to get out of practice. Besides, they also prevent satellite surveillance, and from what I hear, Anthony J. Crowley isn’t supposed to own an island. Can’t have Interpol finding out you’ve been a naughty boy,” he teased. 

“They already know I am. Which is why I’m laying low,” Crowley answered, still from under his pile of blankets. “Get on with it, then, angel. I want to _cuddle_!” 

The last was uttered with all the entitlement and petulance of a young Warlock Dowling at his most demanding, and Aziraphale had to chuckle at hearing Crowley mimicking it so accurately. Making a soothing noise, he gave Crowley a final pat and set about laying the wards. It didn’t take long, since nothing fancy was required: not more than a minute or two for the alarms, and only a bit longer to prevent any observation. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the saltwater on all sides of them considerably boosted the power of both charms. They would not be spied on, not anywhere on the island, and no one at all would find it possible to take them unawares. After Crowley’s scare last week, the knowledge was more than a bit of a relief. Satisfied, he dusted off his hands and shut off the lights before sliding under the covers. 

Crowley immediately closed the distance between them, arms and legs closing around Aziraphale as he plastered himself against the angel’s body, mumbling happily, “Mmm, so warm…”

Aziraphale didn’t point out that his skin was objectively much cooler than Crowley’s. He never had and probably never would. For whatever reason, the perpetually chilled man only seemed capable of feeling truly warm in Aziraphale’s arms. If there were obvious conclusions to be drawn from that fact, Aziraphale was not so indelicate as to state them out loud. It was gratifying enough without having to rub it in. One day, Crowley might be able to easily talk about it; until then, Aziraphale was there to support him, not push him. Making the kind of soft, soothing noises he knew Crowley found pacifying, the angel lifted a hand to Crowley’s hair, holding his friend close with his free hand and gently petting those fiery locks. Rather predictably, Crowley immediately melted against him, letting out a series of little huffs and groans of pleasure. Smiling to himself, Aziraphale continued stroking his hair, watching the sun vanishing beneath the ocean as he listened to Crowley’s murmurings turn into soft, hissing snores. 

~~~~~

  
  
Crowley slept through the night without stirring, except to accommodate Aziraphale when he shifted this way or that to find a more comfortable position from which to enjoy the view outside. There was no light but the moon, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but be reminded of ages gone by, of years spent covertly gazing at the sky and wondering which stars were Crowley’s. 

The jungle had come alive after sunset, and even now as the sun rose, he could still hear birds and animals and detect movement among the trees. Everything so alive and passionate, absolutely glorious. In his arms, face buried in his lover’s chest, Crowley gradually began to rouse as sunlight fell on his tangled curls, warming him.

“Mmm,” he breathed, turning his head a bit and smiling up at Aziraphale. “Morning, angel.”

“Morning. Sleep well, my love?” Aziraphale asked, savoring the calm in that beautiful face for a moment before losing himself in those vast citrine eyes.

“Yeah. Ssso warm,” he breathed, blinking lazily up at Aziraphale. “Comfy, ssweetheart?”

“For now. We can stay this way a bit longer if you like,” he offered. It was already getting quite warm, but not yet warm enough to detract from the pleasure of being in bed, tangled up with Crowley.

“Did you have a good night?” Crowley asked, yawning. “Didn’t get bored?”

“Oh, not at all. It’s beautiful out there. The island has quite a large colony of bats, and I saw some birds as well. There were animals moving in the brush, too, but they weren’t close enough for me to get a clear look.” 

“Still want to go exploring today?” he offered, grinning. 

“If I can drag you out of bed at a reasonable hour, you lazy serpent.” Smiling tolerantly, Aziraphale lifted a hand to stroke Crowley’s hair. 

“Keep doing that and I’m not moving all day…”

“Only you would come this far for a holiday and contemplate spending all day in bed.” 

“It’s a holiday, angel. I thought relaxing was the point!”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale laughed, kissing the top of his head. “We’re here trying to break with our usual patterns. To try some lovely new things.”

“Well, if we’re trying to do things differently, I guess sleeping all day _is_ out,” he agreed, sitting up and stretching. “What do you have planned for us today?”

“Breakfast first, naturally.”

“Most important meal of the day,” Crowley agreed gravely, nodding for him to continue. “Then what?”

“Why not a hike? Could be fun.”

Crowley’s expression softened as he pointed out, “An argument could be made, angel, that we went hiking on our very first date.”

“I suppose it depends on your definition of a date,” he answered, sitting up and lifting a hand to cup Crowley’s cheek. “Our hike together was certainly memorable, but we’ve been doing things that could count as going on dates for thousands of years now.”

“Mmm,” he agreed, closing his eyes and leaning into Aziraphale’s touch. “What would you call our first date, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Dinner at the Ritz after we outsmarted Heaven and Hell, maybe? Or the first time we groomed each other. Probably that one; I think that was the night I realized how much things had changed, that I loved you and you loved me, and that it could finally be expressed.” 

“If you’re going to call _that_ night our first date, then I hate to tell you that you let me go way too far,” Crowley teased, opening his eyes and grinning at Aziraphale with his face still pressed against the angel’s palm. “Grooming is third date territory, you shameless harlot.”

“Well, by that argument, even counting the hike as our first date implies that we were already… what’s the human term? Friends with benefits?”

“Well, if you count the Arrangement, we’ve been _that_ for a while now.” 

Aziraphale started, then laughed. “Oh, I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t considered that. We’ve been, erm, offering each other benefits for quite some time now, haven’t we?” 

“Mhmm. Naughty angel,” Crowley cooed, smirking.

“Nice demon,” he countered, slipping out of the bed while Crowley gaped and glared. “Breakfast?”

“Oi! I’m not _nice_!” Crowley called after him as he left the bedroom.

“Oh, my mistake. I keep forgetting that it’s just a clever disguise,” Aziraphale shot over his shoulder, smiling when Crowley refused to answer.

The kitchen had been stocked at some point before their arrival, and by the time Crowley stumbled from the bedroom, Aziraphale had just finished preparing a simple breakfast. They ate in comfortable silence. Or, more accurately, Crowley nursed a cup of coffee while Aziraphale ate and urged forkfuls of food on him. It never took much cajoling to get him to eat, not any more, and Aziraphale could only assume that Crowley enjoyed this new mealtime ritual as much as he did.

“It’s pretty warm. Still keen on hiking?” Crowley asked as they finished the last few bites of food. 

“Should be nice,” Aziraphale agreed, climbing to his feet and bringing their plates over to the sink. It was getting warm, so he added, “The ocean air and shade from the trees should keep us cool enough.”

Crowley eyed him for a moment in silence, then grinned. “I know how you get on long hikes. I’ll have you out of your shirt by noon.”

He tried to look prim in response, but couldn’t quite suppress a smile. “Ah, now I see why you brought me here. It would have been easier, dear, just to ask nicely. ” 

“There’s no fun in asking _nicely_ , angel.” 

Shaking his head, Aziraphale headed back into the bedroom to change out of his pyjamas. He still had his jeans from their hike last year, and he’d picked up a few light polo shirts to wear while they were on the island. Still, as warm as it was already, even a short-sleeved shirt might prove too much to tolerate comfortably as the day advanced. Crowley sidled up behind him as he dressed, stealing a hug and planting a kiss to Aziraphale’s shoulder before letting the angel squirm free and finish pulling on his clothes. He had to smile at how free and playful Crowley’s behavior was this morning, and his heart was singing as he watched Crowley dress. 

Crowley’s skintight jeans and black shirt would have made most people miserable during a hike in a climate like this, but they were ideal for someone like Crowley. They’d capture the sun’s heat and hold it against his skin delightfully. Sometimes, Aziraphale swore that was the _real_ reason Crowley always wore black. Grinning as he pictured Crowley’s reaction to being presented with that theory, the angel caught hold of his hand and tugged him from the cabin.

Even so early in the day, the air was heavy with warmth and humidity, and alive with the sounds of birds. Aziraphale smiled and drew in a deep breath, his lungs despising it, but the rest of him buzzing with the vibrancy of the place. Feeling giddy, he looked around, considering their possibilities for the day. The shaded jungle beckoned: a cool, shadowy maze. But the ridge they were on, tapering down towards a distant beach, promised a stunning view, with plenty of sunshine for Crowley and a chance to wet their feet in the ocean at the end. 

Crowley’s eyes followed Aziraphale’s, and smiling, he asked, “Fancying a stroll down to the beach today, angel?” 

“Sounds lovely,” he agreed, smiling up at Crowley. “If you’d like to. I’m open to other suggestions, of course.”

“Nah, let’s visit the beach. We can go swimming.”

“Yes, let’s…” He trailed off, eyes widening as he rearranged his features into an expression of consternation. “Oh, no!”

Frowning, Crowley stepped closer, resting a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

“I forgot to pack my swimsuit, Crowley!”

Crowley looked startled for a second, then a smile slowly spread across his face. “No swimsuit, huh?” 

“I’m afraid not. Looks like I can’t go swimming after all,” he told Crowley, struggling to keep his expression serious when faced with that smile and those eyes. 

“Well, you know,” Crowley told him, lowering his voice and leaning close, “you could swim… without one?” The suggestion was, of course, delivered in the silky, inviting tones of the Original Tempter, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

Aziraphale almost laughed, but he managed to maintain something resembling composure as he asked, “Swim without a suit? Oh, but Crowley, that would be shocking!”

“Yet the alternative is to not swim in a cool ocean after a long, hot hike.”

“You make a compelling argument,” he allowed, unable to resist the urge to grin at Crowley any longer. “I suppose I shall simply have to forgo principle. Lead the way, then, you wily serpent.” 

The terrain was rockier and more irregular than it had looked from the top of the cliff, and they were both panting within a few minutes. 

“You know, angel,” Crowley managed as Aziraphale pulled himself to the top of a large boulder and then reached down to help Crowley up after him, “when you said ‘restful weekend,’ I somehow pictured something else entirely. It’s too hot for this. You know it’s bad when _I_ start to sweat.”

Chuckling sheepishly, he admitted, “I could have picked a better path for us, I think. The beach just looked so appealing from up there. And, you must admit, a nice dip will feel lovely once we finally get down there.”

“If we can without breaking our necks first,” Crowley teased, smirking and staring at the path ahead. Expression turning thoughtful, he added, “Although…”

“Yes, dear?” Aziraphale prompted when he didn’t continue. 

“We could fly down.”

 _“Fly?”_ he repeated, stomach swooping as if he was already in mid-air. “You can’t be serious!” 

“Why not?”

“Well, I mean… It’s just… When’s the last time you flew anywhere, Crowley?”

“Nyeh, it’s been a few decades,” he admitted, shrugging. “But it’s like falling off a bike. You never really forget how.” 

Aziraphale didn’t point out that he’d merged his metaphors. Or that falling off a bicycle was painful enough, and falling from the sky could only be worse. He just settled for pointing out, “We’ll be in for a painful surprise if we _have_ forgotten how.”

Crowley gave him a searching look, then stepped closer, cupping his cheek. “I wouldn’t let you get hurt.” 

It was almost instinct at this point to close his eyes and lean into that warm touch, smiling. “You’ve always kept me safe,” he admitted quietly. “It’s just been a very long time.”

“I thought you used to enjoy flying?”

“Oh, well, I did.” Biting his lip, Aziraphale told him, “I suppose I just haven’t spent much time lately far away enough from human settlements for it to seem entirely wise. Wouldn’t want to be spotted, you know.”

“No, that could cause some interesting problems in this enlightened age. But, out here, just the two of us, wings out, the wind in our hair…” 

Crowley’s voice was coaxing, of course, but it was the excitement and anticipation on his face that really decided Aziraphale.

“I suppose not too much can go wrong during a short glide.” 

“ _Nothing_ will go wrong, angel,” Crowley promised, thumb stroking gently over Aziraphale’s cheek. 

The reassurance wasn’t really necessary, but it still felt good to hear. Comforting, the way Crowley’s assurances often were, as if he was lending Aziraphale some of his own confidence rather than just chivying him along. And, with a bit of extra assurance, Aziraphale could look at the matter in its proper perspective. Flight wasn’t dangerous, except in the most extreme situations. Aerial combat or high, unpredictable winds might leave one battered and exhausted, but not much else. For them, flight was far easier than it had any business being. Aziraphale was no scientist, but he knew enough to understand that his wings and Crowley’s simply didn’t make sense. Without hollow bones or the aerodynamic body of a bird, angel wings were simply too small to get a human-shaped creature off the ground. Gravity was for the Earthbound, not for creatures made before the laws of physics had even begun being drafted. Their wings were very pretty and worked a treat for maneuvering, but they weren’t what kept them in the air. 

So he might end up looking quite silly, but he was perfectly safe. And, even if he _did_ end up making a ridiculous showing, Crowley could be counted on to not give him too hard a time about it. 

Obviously able to read Aziraphale’s mood by his face, Crowley grinned and nodded, taking a step back and peeling off his shirt. His wings, as he unfurled them, shone in the tropical sun: dark, glossy, and perfectly beautiful. Aziraphale’s fingers twitched a bit with the impulse to caress the smooth softness of Crowley’s feathers, but he restrained himself and focused on pulling off his own shirt instead. 

Letting out his wings always felt wonderful, and he’d done it more in the past few months with Crowley than he had in the previous three or four thousand years. There was beautiful symbolism in that: not just the newfound liberty it betokened, but the fact that, finally, Aziraphale could truly and fully _be himself_ with Crowley. No more need to hide or evade, no more half-truths or caution required. Just Aziraphale, as he was, basking in Crowley’s absolute love and acceptance. And, of course, gladly giving Crowley the exact same in return. That was the best of it, that ability to love and be loved, and to do so freely. 

“If you’re not careful, angel, you’re going to start glowing,” Crowley teased, taking a step closer and smiling tenderly at Aziraphale. 

“If I do, it’ll be your fault for making me so happy,” he countered, extending his wings and giving them a good shake. 

Crowley’s smile widened, and for a moment, Aziraphale was sure he was going to tease a bit more. Then he turned to examine the stretch of beach they’d been heading for, tilting his head and lifting one wing into the air, angling his feathers to the left and then to the right before dropping it again.

“No real wind to speak of, good starting altitude, and a nice flat landing strip,” he noted, grinning and rolling his shoulders with obvious enthusiasm. 

The angel smiled at him, watching the muscles of Crowley’s back and wings flex and ripple in preparation before he began to stretch his own muscles as well. Pulling one might not have been remotely dangerous, but that wouldn’t keep it from being painful. 

“Don’t worry,” Crowley urged, patting his shoulder. “Just think happy thoughts and they’ll lift you right up in the air.” 

As if to emphasize the Peter Pan metaphor, Crowley reached up into the air, hand suddenly filling with shiny-looking dust which he tossed at Aziraphale with a laugh. 

“Crowley!” he squawked in protest. “Is that _glitter_?”

“Of course not! ‘S fairy dust, angel. The better to help you reach Never Never Land with me,” he answered and, before Aziraphale could respond, he stepped to the cliffside and then off the edge.

Gasping, Aziraphale watched with wide eyes, only relaxing when Crowley’s wide-spread wings caught an air current and he started to glide lazily upwards. He wanted to be upset with Crowley for startling him like that, but the grace and beauty of him -- all sleek black wings, pale skin, and red hair -- made it impossible to do anything but admire the sight of him. He’d never watched Crowley fly before, and it was striking how different his style was from Aziraphale’s own. Then again, a Principality was trained to be imposing and awe-inspiring in flight, not graceful or appealing. During his time as an angel, Crowley would have been zipping around space setting the Spheres in motion. Speed and maneuverability would have been paramount. As a result, he was absolutely stunning to watch.

Aziraphale sighed happily, hugging himself and grinning from ear to ear as he watched Crowley swoop and dart and circle, riding the wind with more ease and grace than any bird in existence. And then the bottom dropped out of Aziraphale’s stomach because Crowley was suddenly _falling_ , plummeting towards the ground with his wings pressed flat against his body.

“No!” he protested, looking around desperately to see if Crowley had been attacked, or perhaps collided with something, or--

No! This was not the time to think. He had been a member of the Heavenly Host, and he’d had extensive training on how to deal with an injured comrade unable to control his flight. Instinct taking over, he stepped off the cliff, wings beating hard as he angled himself to intersect the path of Crowley’s descent. He should have had a helper; two would have been ideal. But a lone angel could still at least cushion and buoy a friend, minimizing the pain and risk of impact with the ground or anything else. He was underneath Crowley in an instant, angling himself to break the fall with his own body. Crowley let out a cry of shock and pain as his chest slammed into Aziraphale’s back, the blow cushioned but not negated by the angel’s wings. Aziraphale managed to stifle his own cry as his wings were slammed rather painfully against his body by Crowley’s weight. Reaching back as well as he could, he caught Crowley under the arms, doing his best to keep him from sliding right off of his back again.

It was a relief when Crowley’s hands finally gripped his shoulders and his legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Whatever had happened, Crowley was still conscious and had some degree of self-control. Letting out a sob of relief, Aziraphale turned his body towards the beach, angling his wings to slow their descent. 

“Angel?” Crowley gasped, scrambling off of Aziraphale as they skidded face-first into the sand a few moments later. “What the bloody Heaven was that?” he demanded, hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders, levering him into a sitting position and then urgently wiping sand off his face. “Are you hurt?”

 _“Me?”_ he demanded, staring in shocked confusion. “Crowley, you were dropping like a stone! I thought you were… I thought...” He trailed off, breathless and abruptly trembling.

Crowley’s eyes widened at that, and his mouth fell open. “Angel,” he whispered, cradling one of Aziraphale’s still-sandy cheeks in a warm palm. “Angel, I’m _fine_. Nothing was wrong.” 

“But you were…” _Falling. Again._

“I was having some fun. It was just a dive.” 

“A… You did that on purpose?” he demanded, glaring. “You… you _idiot_ , I was terrified!” he shouted, giving Crowley a hard shove and then jumping to his feet. “How could you scare me like that?” 

Crowley’s wings flared wide as he wobbled from the push, and he stared up at Aziraphale with wide eyes for a moment before pulling himself to his feet as well. “I wasn’t trying to scare you,” he sighed, extending a hand towards Aziraphale. “You know I’d never do that.” 

Swallowing hard, he slowly accepted the proffered hand. “You were flying and then you… weren’t. I thought you’d been hurt, lost control.”

“Angel, I’m sorry,” he answered with obvious contrition, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t remember the maneuver.” 

Heart still pounding despite the fact that Crowley was obviously just fine, Aziraphale seized on the distraction his words offered. “Maneuver? No one ever taught _me_ anything like that in flight school.”

“Really?” he asked, frowning. “How’d you learn to dodge, then?”

“Well… generally with a displacement roll when not in _tight_ formation.”

“Formation? Oh,” Crowley murmured, expression startled. “I sometimes forget that you were trained for combat. That’s got to really change how you look at flying, with life and death constantly at stake. Makes it serious business.”

Aziraphale nodded and, to distract himself from memories of his time in the Host, asked Crowley, “But it must have been dangerous making stars and planets, and setting everything in motion, too?”

“Nyeh,” he answered, shrugging. “People got hurt, sometimes even discorporated. But, if you made it look good in the reports, you could usually dodge remedial training and be back up there in a new body by lunchtime. The stakes were low.”

“But you took the work seriously? You must have done. I mean… the universe turned out beautifully.”

Crowley smiled at that, expression a bit proud, and something like nostalgia touched his features. “We worked our wings off, but we had fun doing it. I remember one Starmaker whose favorite way to alter a comet’s trajectory was to grab it by the tail and let herself get dragged along until her weight changed its course. Laughed like a schoolgirl the entire time, and got absolutely filthy within the first second.” 

Aziraphale frowned for a moment over the logistics of taking a secure hold on a cloud of ice and dust particles, let alone being pulled along by something a comet was in the process of shedding, but he had to smile at the look on Crowley’s face. By now he knew the wonder and joy inherent in making the universe your canvas, but it hadn’t occurred to him that it had been an occasion for fun and merriment, too. He couldn’t recall Crowley _ever_ having mentioned a genuinely happy memory of Heaven, let alone speak fondly of another angel, and it was a delight to see him do so unprompted. He wouldn’t push now, but perhaps later he could convince Crowley to speak more of his time as a Starsmith, of the fun he’d had with his colleagues while shaping the fabric of Creation. 

For now, though, Crowley was in a good mood, and he’d been enjoying his time in the sky very much before Aziraphale’s panic had put an end to it. There was only one thing for it. 

“Will you show me how to dive like that, Crowley?” 

“Are you sure?” he answered, frowning in bemusement. “Doesn’t really seem your speed, honestly.” 

“Well…” 

There was no denying Crowley had a point, so he didn’t even try to. It was undeniably frightening to imagine hurtling towards the ground at something approaching terminal velocity, and wasn’t _that_ an evocative term? The appeal was lost on Aziraphale, but must have been akin to the pleasure Crowley felt driving that ridiculous car of his, far too fast and in defiance of all common sense or safety considerations. Still, whether Aziraphale could learn to enjoy any one specific flight maneuver was quite beside the point. 

“Crowley, I… I do enjoy flying, but I’ve never really flown for actual fun,” he admitted, not sure why he felt sheepish about the fact. “I’m not sure I ever thought about it as a real possibility. But, if it’s something we can share, and enjoy together…”

He smiled slowly, eyes going full yellow. “Ever played tag in three dimensions, angel?” 

“Never for fun,” Aziraphale answered, since training exercises hardly counted. “But no time like the present. Which rules shall we play by?”

“It’s tag, angel. Do we _need_ rules?” 

“Well, it does help to be sure we’re on the same page and playing the same game.” 

“Fine. Catch and Kiss,” Crowley pronounced, smirking.

Aziraphale blushed, but nodded immediately. If Crowley wanted to act like a kid in a schoolyard, that was fine. What was a holiday for, if not a bit of lighthearted silliness? And, naturally, Aziraphale would never say no to an excuse to share a few extra kisses with Crowley, even kisses stolen mid-air in the course of a game of tag. There was something a bit breathtaking in the idea of such playful tussling, not least because it was almost certainly as new to Crowley as it was to him. Whatever games Crowley had played with other angels or demons over the course of his existence, they couldn’t have included kissing. No angel would have allowed it, nor would Crowley have tolerated it from any demon. 

This would be theirs alone.

Giddy with that knowledge, Aziraphale launched himself into the air, letting himself gain a bit of altitude before extending his wings and banking sharply away from the beach. He hadn’t flown in ages, and the muscles in his wings and back burned pleasantly at the exertion. He’d almost forgotten the raw power tucked away within his own body, wings as capable of knocking an opponent from their flightpath as they were of controlling his own. It felt so good to actually be using them as they’d been designed to be used, for propulsion rather than simple ornamentation. No wonder Crowley enjoyed it so much!

Oh, yes, Crowley. He twisted in the air, scanning the horizon for his pursuer and feeling a surge of something that wasn’t quite anxiety when he realized that Crowley was nowhere in sight. Now where _had_ the wily serpent gotten to? 

Instinct had him yo-yoing away from his position before he was consciously aware of Crowley swooping up towards him. It was the last thing he’d expected, but typical Crowley. Why do the sensible thing when he could do the stylish one instead? But Crowley easily pitched around to match Aziraphale’s new flightpath. Evading him for long was going to be a challenge, and the angel grinned as he considered how best to pull it off. This was nothing like the rigid drilling he’d undergone when learning aerial combat. Nothing about Crowley was predictable, and Aziraphale’s carefully-conditioned reactions would only hamper him in a game like this. Still, he was built for endurance where Crowley was built for brief bursts of speed. He could use that to his advantage. 

As Crowley closed on him, Aziraphale pulled himself to a stop, hovering but thrashing his wings wildly. It was a risky tactic, but he saw Crowley’s eyes widen as the resultant updraft forced him away. Smirking, the angel waved to Crowley before rolling down and away.

“You bastard!” Crowley laughed, diving after him. “That was a dirty trick!”

“I learned from the best,” Aziraphale countered and, because he and Crowley expected to clearly hear each other, they did. They’d carried on conversations in outer space, after all, so why not a few dozen meters above the surface of the Earth? A little wind could hardly prevent two supernatural beings from being heard when they wanted to. 

“I’ll show you the best I have to offer,” Crowley ‘threatened’ as he pursued Aziraphale. “And I’ll enjoy claiming that kiss.”

“You’ll have to _catch_ me first. Good luck!”

He banked hard towards the island and started skyward again, wings beating so hard that even the muscles of his chest started to ache. Crowley followed, though more slowly than he’d shadowed Aziraphale’s descent, and with less flourish. Flagging already. Aziraphale smiled to himself, flying higher. On the wing, Crowley was the most gorgeous sight imaginable, but for all his grace and beauty, he wasn’t made for endurance the way Aziraphale had been. Which must explain why he’d rather dive than roll out of the way of danger. That need to conserve energy had resulted in such agility and efficiency, and made him look so good on the wing, that Aziraphale caught himself paying more attention to Crowley’s flightpath than to his own. 

The thermal was a strong one, and he plowed into it at full speed, gasping as the updraft caught at his wings and forced him higher before he could correct his course. His stomach lurched as he bounced up and, before he could compose himself enough to compensate, Crowley was underneath him, arms closing around his waist. 

“Gotcha, angel,” he laughed, grinning up at Aziraphale, and urging him to turn a little, bringing them both more-or-less upright in the column of beautifully warm air. 

Surprise, and that teasing smile, rendered Aziraphale entirely breathless, and all he could do was stare silently at Crowley, absently wrapping his arms around his waist and repositioning his wings to take advantage of the buoying current. It was all terribly romantic, even before one considered the stakes of the game. _Catch and Kiss_ , Crowley had proposed, and it had seemed so dear and childish at the time. But now, in each other’s arms, bodies coursing with adrenaline after an earnest chase…

Aziraphale’s lips parted of their own accord, tingling with anticipation. His cunning serpent had certainly earned his prize. Warm, clever Crowley, always so affectionate and so very kind. In moments like these, it was almost hard to believe that he’d spent thousands of years fearing his friend’s love. He’d had his reasons, of course, but thoughts of Crowley’s constancy and patience never failed to touch his heart and leave him, somehow, full of even more affection for the sweet, ridiculous darling than he usually felt. 

Hugging him more tightly, Aziraphale whispered, “Well-played, my dear. You fly so well.”

“You’re not bad yourself,” he answered, his voice warm and silky as he watched Aziraphale through half-lidded, fully yellow eyes. “Such strength.”

The angel blushed, shaking his head faintly. “Crowley…”

“Hush now, angel,” he directed, smirking. “Will you give me my reward?” 

“I’m surprised you haven’t taken it already,” he admitted, smiling shyly and leaning in a bit to nuzzle Crowley’s face.

“Oh, but I don’t want to _take_ it. I’d rather it was given freely.” 

Aziraphale blushed at that, biting his lip for a moment before smiling up at Crowley. “I’ll never balk at kissing you, my dear,” he whispered.

“Angel…”

Feeling somehow even more shy than the first time he’d pressed his lips to Crowley’s, the angel leaned in and gently claimed his love’s mouth. Their kisses were always things more of warmth than passion, and this was hardly an exception, except that Crowley’s warmth bordered on heat today, and his hands were a bit more urgent than usual in clutching at Aziraphale’s back. But he kissed Aziraphale almost languidly all the same, and the noise rising in the back of his throat was more a purr than a growl. For a hard-fought prize claimed after such a chase, it was a beautifully gentle thing, and Aziraphale melted against Crowley’s chest with a hum of pleasure. He would never tire of such intimacies, shared with such a cherished friend after so much self-denial on both sides. 

He sighed happily, despite a little pang of something like loss as Crowley broke the kiss, pressing his lips to Aziraphale’s cheek for a long moment before drawing back just the tiniest bit. 

“Oh, Crowley,” he whispered, nuzzling that warm, soft face. “How I love you, my dear.” 

Crowley’s answering smile was radiant, and Aziraphale couldn’t resist the urge to steal another kiss from those gentle, infinitely expressive lips. Holding each other, kissing and nuzzling the whole way, they eased back from the thermal and wafted together to the ground. It was the most perfect, comfortable thing in the world, and Aziraphale giggled and hugged Crowley more tightly as their feet crunched into the sand.

“I never knew that flying with someone could be such a delight,” he admitted. “Crowley, thank you for this.” 

“Well, now that you do know, we’ll do it more often, okay?” he offered, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek without responding to his words of gratitude. “Any time you want. Right now, if you like.”

He opened his mouth to agree, then hesitated. The adrenaline was starting to subside, making his aching muscles much harder to ignore. He badly wanted to fly with Crowley again, and rather felt that the wicked dear deserved to be chased a bit himself, but he wouldn’t manage a credible showing right now.

“Very soon, Crowley,” he told him instead, grinning. 

“Trying to put me off, angel? Afraid I’ll win again?”

“You caught me, that means _I’m_ It now. And I fully intend to even the score, my dear.” 

“Mmm, there’s the competitive, prissy bastard I know and love,” Crowley laughed, poking him playfully in the shoulder.

It wasn’t precisely painful, but the sudden pressure on his strained muscles made Aziraphale wince and grimace a bit. 

“Nyk! Angel? Did I hurt you?” he asked, eyes widening. “Are you all right?”

“I’m _fine_ , Crowley, just a little sore. As one tends to be after unaccustomed exercise,” he soothed, smiling and squeezing Crowley’s hands. “There’s nothing wrong with me that a hot bath and some rest won’t fix.” 

“You sure?” he asked, eyes searching Aziraphale’s face. 

“Positive, you silly thing,” the angel told him, smile widening. “You can’t pretend you’re not a bit sore, too.” 

“If I am sore, it’s only because someone doesn’t know the difference between a game of tag and an actual _pursuit_ ,” Crowley countered, mock-glaring. “You gave me a real workout, angel.” 

“Of course I did,” he answered, trying not to smile. “A prize unearned isn’t a prize worth having. I wouldn’t have wanted to deprive you.” 

“And I did earn it, but now my poor back is sore, angel,” he groaned theatrically, fluttering his eyelashes and putting on a piteous expression. “I do hope you’ll let me share that hot bath of yours?”

“Of course I will. I might even give you a back rub. I can hardly let you suffer, after all.” 

“You spoil me.”

“You deserve it,” Aziraphale assured him, nuzzling his face for a moment. “Let’s head inside?” 

“Be quite a hike up, if we decide to walk back,” Crowley noted. “You okay to fly?” 

“It’s not very far, and we won’t be straining ourselves like we were before. We’ll call it a cooldown exercise.”

“Well, in that case,” he answered, lifting himself into the air with an almost-negligent stroke of his wings, one that barely stirred the air around them. 

“You’re beautiful in flight,” Aziraphale noted, joining him. “So sleek and graceful.” 

“Angel,” Crowley chuckled, coloring prettily and shaking his head. “Come on, let’s head back to the cabin.” 

There was something so charming in Crowley’s reticent reaction to open praise, and Aziraphale felt his heart swell a bit. “Yes, my love. Let’s go back. We’ll have a nice bath, then spend the rest of the day relaxing.” 

“Best let me check your wings at some point, too, angel,” he added. “You flew hard, might have a few feathers out of place.” 

“Well, everything feels well enough, but I never do object to a nice grooming session. I’ll go over your wings as well,” he promised, offering his hand. “Shall we, then, my dear?” 

“Retire to a romantic cabin with my favorite angel for an afternoon of cuddling and grooming? Aziraphale, what do you think?” Crowley chuckled, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Come on, then.”

Chuckling, feeling even lighter than an angel in midair generally did, Aziraphale nodded, tangling his fingers through Crowley’s and tugging him towards the cabin. 

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic in this series soon, I promise. And I'm also working on a few other projects as well.
> 
> Remember, feedback is love. 
> 
> (Which is why I provide the following feedback to you, dear readers: You are members of the loveliest fandom I've ever had the pleasure of writing in, and I've been ficcing since the 90s.)


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